


Quarry

by Dernhelm



Series: Chronicle of Scars [4]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Love, M/M, PWP, Power Play, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4035622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dernhelm/pseuds/Dernhelm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Come, now, my king...a Ranger of Ithilien should be easy quarry for the Chieftain of the Dunedain.”</i>
</p>
<p>Putting aside titles and duties, Aragorn and Faramir escape to the one place they can be free together--the wild.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quarry

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place roughly a year after the end of [Cuts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160407), a few months after [Name-Father](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2365355). Begun in October 2012, I finally went back and completed it May 2015.

“You found me.”

Faramir’s voice echoed softly off the stone walls of the cave, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“I promised you I would.” Aragorn could not help the smile of pride that came to his lips. “Though you did manage to slow me down at the creek. Tricky of you to double back.”

“I thought that was the idea of this game.” Faramir sounded more than a little pleased with himself, and Aragorn could practically hear his half-smirk.

Aragorn’s eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light as he inched his way towards the back of the twisting cavern, following the sound of Faramir’s voice. He could see the flicker of a fire against the stone walls a ways down, but caution born of years of experience made him tread carefully nonetheless. It would be foolish to assume the game was over before he’d actually claimed his quarry.

“I thought the objective was for us to escape Minas Tirith,” Aragorn said. “To seek freedom from the weight of our titles and prying eyes.”

“Aye. To be in the wild once again.” Faramir’s voice seemed to be moving, though Aragorn wasn’t sure if it was simply the acoustics of the winding cave. “To simply be Aragorn and Faramir.”

Aragorn rounded the corner, sure that he’d find Faramir waiting for him. Instead, he found an oil lamp in a nook, throwing the flickering light Aragorn had seen from the entrance. He turned around rapidly, forcing himself to keep his hand from his sword hilt. He was in no danger here, though his heart was thundering in mingled exertion and anticipation. It would not do for him to accidentally run his lover through.

“If you were so eager to be away with me, then why play this game?” Aragorn squatted, his eyes searching the hard stone for sign of his prey.

“Come, now, my king,” Faramir’s voice was playful, yet held a barbed edge. “A Ranger of Ithilien should be easy quarry for the Chieftain of the Dunedain.”

Ah, so it came to this: an ill-thought jest over an empty bottle of wine that had wounded his beloved’s pride. Aragorn had apologized once he’d realized his error, but it seemed that Faramir had nursed the slight over the weeks since.

Aragorn’s fingers touched a particularly damp patch of ground. He leaned forward and sniffed, taking in the faint scent of creek-bed. It was a smear of mud, no bigger than his thumbnail, but enough to mark where Faramir had trod in his boots. He’d gone this way, then, into the darkness.

Leaving the lamp behind, Aragorn felt along the wall as he made his way deeper into the cave.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Aragorn said, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “The guards at the camp said you’d left well before dawn.”

 Faramir did not reply, however, which told Aragorn he must be close indeed. Emboldened, he pressed forward. After months of restraining themselves amidst the eyes of the court, they would finally be free to touch, to kiss, to embrace. Aragorn’s face heated in the darkness just imagining his prince sprawled out naked before him, moaning softly as Aragorn tasted every square inch of his flesh…

Aragorn was so distracted by his fantasy that he almost walked smack into a low-hanging crop of stone. Focusing once again, he felt around, and found that it was part of the back wall of the cavern. Confusion creased his brow. He’d been sure Faramir’s voice had come from this direction. Perhaps there was a channel that allowed his voice to carry from another part of the cave?

Aragorn breathed deeply. He swore he could smell a hint of wood smoke. He reached out under the stone outcropping and found an opening big enough to squat through. Perhaps…

Taking a chance, Aragorn crawled carefully through the hole. On the other side, it was tall enough for him to stand in, which he did, though he realized the space was no bigger than the inside of a wardrobe. A complete dead end. Frustration was growing in his chest as he felt around the small space, his fingers encountering nothing but dry stone. Why couldn’t he have just kept his opinions to himself? If he had, he’d be wrapped in Faramir’s embrace by now, not wasting minutes out of the precious few days they’d allowed themselves.

On a fluke, he reached above his head, fully expecting to encounter rough stone. Instead, his fingers met long fur, and he recoiled with a yelp. He drew his dagger—for his sword would be useless in the close quarters—and shielded his face, ready for the vengeance of the cave-dwelling creature he’d disturbed.

None came though, and after a few seconds, Aragorn used the tip of his blade to nudge at the soft spot. It made no sound. He dared another touch with his hand. It was fur, yes, but cool and dry. It had no heft behind it either, as it would were it still part of a creature, living or dead. Which could only mean…

He pushed up on the fur, and was instantly bathed in warm light as he revealed a cavern above his head. Now that the space was illuminated, he could see how the stones were placed in such a way to allow his access, and after sheathing his dagger, he scrambled up nimbly.

Aragorn blinked rapidly as he entered the new cave, his eyes adjusting to the brilliant sunlight filtering through a high crag in the rocks. Underneath it, a small fire had been lit, just enough to provide warmth, but not enough to smoke heavily. Beside it, a bed of furs and woolen blankets had been spread out, inviting after his long day tracking through the wilderness. Even better, though, was the sweet music of water trickling nearby, and Aragorn’s throat felt even more parched just to hear it.

“Well done,” Faramir’s voice drifted from behind Aragorn. The old ranger whipped around to find a lean silhouette perched on a stone not far from the opening Aragorn had crawled through. Faramir unfolded himself gracefully, and as he strode into the light, Aragorn’s breath caught. A pleased smile played upon his plump lips, and his eyes danced with mirth beneath the tendrils of gingery hair that fell across his face. Faramir was relaxed in a way he never was inside the walls of the White City, and Aragorn’s heart leapt to see the unguarded love that lay bare in those grey eyes.

“For a second, I thought you were going to turn back.” Faramir teased.

Aragorn said nothing as he dropped his sparse pack to the stone floor. It only took him two strides to close the distance between them. He slammed his lips into Faramir’s in a bruising kiss. A delicious shudder went through him as he finally tasted the full, pink flesh that had been taunting him for months…so close, and yet always out of reach.  Faramir mouth opened as he moaned helplessly into the kiss, and Aragorn took it as an invitation to slip his tongue inside. His entire body hummed to life as Faramir wrapped his tongue around Aragorn’s in kind, his arms instinctively wrapping around his beloved.

“Turn back? And miss out on my prize?” Aragorn growled playfully against Faramir’s lips, and nipped gently at the swollen skin.

“I did promise you a prize, didn’t I?” Faramir’s voice was dreamy with lust, his hips bucking forward involuntarily. His member was already as hard as stone in his thin linen breeches, and Aragorn did not hesitate to take the straining bulge in hand, squeezing none too gently. Faramir swayed under the sensation, clinging tighter to Aragorn for balance as he let out a guttural moan.

Aragorn pressed Faramir back against the wall of the cave, pinning him against the rough stone. He continued to massage Faramir’s thick shaft through his clothes as he kissed him. It was as if Aragorn were bound by some enchantment, unable to pull himself away from Faramir now that he was finally touching him.

“Aragorn, please,” Faramir gasped. He tried to reach the laces of his breeches, but Aragorn’s hand blocked him deftly. “If you don’t stop, I’ll release like this.”

“That’s my plan,” Aragorn whispered into Faramir’s ear before nipping at it with his sharp teeth. He felt Faramir tremble against him. “I want to feel just how much you’ve missed me, how much you’ve missed _this_.” Aragorn found the ridged head of Faramir’s cock and ran his thumb over it, relishing the moistness that was creeping through the fabric.

“I have. Badly,” Faramir whimpered. His eyes were drifting into half-open slits, his pelvis rocking forward to meet Aragorn’s strokes. “So many nights alone in my bed, wishing to feel you, to taste you.” Faramir pressed his mouth against Aragorn’s, sucking hard on his bottom lip. “Please, let me loose, let me show you!”

“No.” Aragorn held him fast, latching his mouth to the side of Faramir’s throat. He loved how his beloved’s stubble rasped across his lips. “I want you to let yourself go, Faramir. I want to feel you release in your breeches like a lad, unable to control yourself, unable to hold back from me.”

Aragorn could feel the cries escaping from Faramir’s throat under his lips, and he sucked at the spot right next to his Adam’s apple that he knew Faramir loved.

“Oh…oh, Aragorn! Oh Valar!” Faramir practically sobbed, his fingers digging into Aragorn’s biceps. “I can’t…I can’t…”

“Do it!” Aragorn hissed in dark delight, his hand squeezing and stroking the hard length of flesh through the dampening fabric. It swelled under his fingers, twitching, and he knew Faramir was moments from his end. “Release for me!”

Aragorn felt the first spurt of wetness against his hand before he heard Faramir’s tortured cry, his fluid soaking through the two layers of thin fabric effortlessly. He massaged Faramir’s seed into his flesh, using it to slicken his movements, and Faramir’s cries raised in pitch with every shuddering stroke. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Faramir’s groans became rapid breaths, his body softening to sag against Aragorn’s chest. Aragorn finally released Faramir’s spent member, and pressed a long, slow kiss to his panting lips.

“How I love you, my prince,” he whispered, “I’ve ached to do that to you for months.”

“And I love you, my king. You and what you do to me.”

“I’ve only begun,” Aragorn said, eyes twinkling. “We have three days to ourselves in this cave. Now that I’ve caught you, I’m not planning on letting you out of my sight until our time is done.”

“I very much look forward to that,” Faramir said. He looked down at himself, ruefully. “Though I may need to spend some of that time without pants. I only have one other pair.”

“Don’t you think that was part of my plan?” Aragorn’s eyes danced with mirth. “I think you need to get out of them now and give them a rinse before the stain sets.” He squeezed the moist patch at the juncture of Faramir’s thighs, laughing a little to watch his beloved squirm. Taking pity on him, he stepped away to allow him to strip.

“And what about you?” Faramir asked, eying the bulge at Aragorn’s crotch. “Shall I not relieve you of your need before we settle in to domesticity?”

“Soon enough.” Aragorn eyed the lean, pale flesh of Faramir’s thighs as he stripped down out of his boots, breeches, and smallclothes, and it took all his control not to simply pin him to the wall once again, this time with his face against the stones. “Very soon.”

Aragorn followed Faramir to the back of the cave, where the sound of dripping water grew even louder. To his surprise, he found that there was a full pool waiting there, fed by a spring trickling down the wall of the cave. It was little more than a basin, not deep enough to swim in, but certainly deep enough to draw deep, cold handfuls of water. He drank his fill as Faramir tended to his soiled clothing, admiring the muscular curve of his Faramir’s bare buttocks peering out from underneath his long tunic.

“You’re staring at me again,” Faramir said. He turned to Aragorn with that little half-smile that made Aragorn’s heart flutter.

“And why should I not stare?” Aragorn said. “I need not guard my eyes from anyone tonight.”

Though their love had flourished quietly for almost a year, they had only allowed themselves the luxury of full liberty for a handful of days on a scant number of occasions. Though Aragorn’s wife was open and accepting of their relationship, the court—and Gondor as a whole—would not look as favorably on the carnal joining between King and Steward.

“No, I suppose you do not,” Faramir said, more than a little shyly. A flush crept across Faramir’s sun-kissed cheeks, making him look all the more delectable. He retreated to hang his clothes in the precious sunbeam near their small fire, and fed the flames a few sticks to keep them going. Aragorn took the time to strip off his own duster, jerkin, and tunic and splash himself down, the cold water invigorating him. When he turned back to Faramir, he found his grey eyes locked upon his bare torso, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. It seemed Aragorn was not the only one who was relishing the freedom to stare.

Aragorn rubbed the water from his beard as he stood, and he moved to grab his tunic to towel off with.

“No,” Faramir said, his voice hoarse. He stepped carefully over to the furs in his bare feet, and extended a hand to Aragorn. “Come here.”

Aragorn did as he was asked, taking his hand as he joined him upon their makeshift bed. To his surprise, Faramir kissed his knuckles first, not as a vassal to his liege, but as a lover. His light kisses trailed up the inside of Aragorn’s muscled arm, over his bicep, and up to his collarbone. Aragorn sighed as Faramir’s tongue flickered out to taste the sweat-tinged water dripping off his shoulder before trailing lower over his sternum, following the droplets between the slight mounds of his scarred pectorals.

Faramir’s mouth traveled lower, over Aragorn’s belly. The muscles were no longer as tight as they had once been, and the slightest layer of fat had begun to soften the skin, testament to Aragorn’s increased time indoors. However, Faramir paid this no mind as he sank to his knees, kissing and lapping down the trail of dark hair that led from Aragorn’s navel to under the band of his woolen breeches.

“Oh, Faramir,” Aragorn sighed as he threaded his fingers through Faramir’s silken locks. His member had swollen anew, throbbing almost painfully behind the brass buttons that held his breeches closed. His breath shallow with anticipation, he watched as Faramir’s fingers undid the fastenings one at a time.

“As I said, I’ve been dreaming of this for months,” Faramir whispered huskily as he undid the laces of Aragorn’s smallclothes. He tugged at the loosened fabric, pulling both trousers and underclothes down Aragorn’s hips just enough to reveal the reddened tip of Aragorn’s engorged member. Faramir looked up at Aragorn, and the mixture of shyness and playful lust that danced in his eyes was enough to make Aragorn’s breath catch in his throat.

Faramir did not pull his eyes away as he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss right upon the weeping slit, and hot pleasure rippled through Aragorn’s entire body at the touch. Faramir did it again, and again, maddening little kisses that made Aragorn shudder and groan, fueling his lust rather than satisfying it.

“Please! You torture me!” Aragorn’s voice was keening, but he didn't care.

“That’s my plan,” Faramir said mischievously. He pulled the fabric down further, and lashed his tongue up the underside Aragorn’s shaft. “To drive you mad with wanting.”

“I am already mad!” Aragorn pleaded. “Have pity!” He could not help but rub himself over Faramir’s closed lips, hoping to persuade him to allow Aragorn entrance to the slick, hot bliss that awaited him beyond. Faramir remained stubborn; continuing with his vexing little licks and kisses across every inch of Aragorn’s member. By the time he was bathing Aragorn’s tight sac with his tongue, Aragorn was almost sobbing in frustrated need, his hips bucking forward helplessly. Just when Aragorn was ready to pull himself away from Faramir to take matters into his own hand, Faramir’s lips slipped back up his shaft and finally enveloped the head of his cock.

Pleasure rippled through Aragorn like wildfire, consuming him from toes to scalp as Faramir swallowed him deep. His knees buckled in an effort to stay upright under the onslaught of warm sucking, and he was barely conscious of Faramir’s arm around his hips to steady him. Faramir’s other hand was busy stroking Aragorn’s spit-slickened shaft, his hand moving in perfect rhythm with his mouth. Aragorn’s head fell back upon his shoulders as he pumped into the molten cavern of Faramir’s mouth, every stroke, every suck, dragging him closer and closer to the edge of his endurance—

With a cry that echoed off the cave walls, Aragorn released himself. His entire body rocked with each wave of rapture that crashed over him, pulling him down the spiral of oblivion as he emptied himself down Faramir’s waiting throat. He would have feared overwhelming Faramir if not for how his beloved clung to him furiously, his mouth sucking all the harder, as if determined to swallow down every last bit of his seed.

It wasn’t until Aragorn finally stilled that Faramir pulled away, gasping. Aragorn looked down at him in wonder, palming his sweating cheek. He ran his thumb over the soft curve of Faramir’s skilled lips, amazed to find not a drop upon them.

“You are amazing, my prince,” Aragorn whispered.

Aragorn dropped to his knees so that he could embrace Faramir more fully, and the two men sunk down onto the bed of furs in a tangle of sweaty, half-dressed limbs. He kissed Faramir, slowly and fully, flicking his tongue inside his mouth just long enough to taste the bitter salt of his spending.

“Odd as it is to admit, I’ve missed that taste,” Faramir said as they pulled away, shyness replaced by candor. “The taste of you, of _this_.”

Aragorn understood what he meant. He felt the same way whenever he drank Faramir deep, his earthy flavor so unquestionably his, so undeniably _male_. It was the taste of the secret desires that bonded them together as tightly as their love did. 

“I don’t know how three days are going to be enough,” Faramir said quietly.

“Don’t.” Aragorn palmed Faramir’s cheek, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Don’t let your shadows darken this before it’s begun. Think of how much can be accomplished in three days. We have an eternity together, my fair one.”

Aragorn gave him a soft, earnest smile, hoping to cheer him with his own brightness. True, three days was a painfully short time, especially when Aragorn knew it would be another season before they could have anything close to this again. It was still better than nothing. So, so much better than nothing.

“You’re right.” Faramir returned the grin, though Aragorn could see how it still didn’t quite touch his eyes. He knew Faramir, and his struggle against his inner shadows. Aragorn knew the best way to keep Faramir’s moods at bay was to keep him well and thoroughly occupied. So, Aragorn rolled on top of Faramir, his hands searching for his wrists.

“What are you doing?” Faramir asked with a confused little half-laugh. “Are you not sated?”

“For now, though I will not be for long.” He held Faramir’s hands up over his head, and kissed him, hard and deep. “And now that I have caught my quarry, I will not let him escape again.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Aragorn.” Even though he chuckled, his eyes were darkening with desire, his breath coming more shallowly.

“No, you’re not.” Ferreting in the pocket of the breeches still pooled around his thighs, Aragorn pulled out a thin, leather strip.  He carefully watched Faramir’s reaction as he draped it across his wrists. The effect was instantaneous. Faramir sucked his breath in sharply, his hips rising slightly off the furs. So, his prince liked the idea of this game.

With quick, sure hands, Aragorn tied Faramir’s wrists together. He said not a word, but watched him intently, his eyes luminous with trust. Once he was well and truly bound, though, Aragorn kissed him one more time—and then got off of him.

“Where are you going?” Faramir’s brow creased in surprise.

“To make dinner.” Aragorn kept his tone light as he righted his clothes, snapping his breeches shut again.

“You can’t be serious!” Faramir looked aghast. He struggled to sit up, finally managing to prop himself up on his elbow.

“I am.” Aragorn began rummaging in his pack, pulling out some of the provisions he’d brought—cheese, dried sausage, a bottle of good wine. “I said I was content for now.”

“What am I supposed to do, bound here like this?”

“Wait.” Aragorn gave Faramir a wicked grin. “Like you made me wait to find you. It’s only fair.”

Faramir rolled onto his back, groaning in annoyance. “You’re insufferable.”

“You won’t be saying that in another hour.” Aragorn leaned down and brushed a hand up Faramir’s bare thigh, just far enough to make him shiver in anticipation. Then, with a dark chuckle, he turned back to his bag.

Faramir growled low in his throat. “Insufferable.”

Aragorn was pleased. Bound and distracted like this, Faramir wouldn’t have time to dwell. And if it meant it was whetting his appetite for later in the evening, then all the better.

“Would you have me any other way?”

“Numerous ways. I can start listing them, if you'd like.”

Aragorn laughed, and turned to give Faramir one more kiss. “Perhaps we’ll try them all.”

“It’s a long list.”

“Then we'll see how far we get. We have plenty of time, beloved.”

 


End file.
